


Waist Knot - Fic

by Anonymous



Category: The Waste Land - T. S. Eliot
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:42:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2327441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heartfelt ficlets inspired by the amazing Waist Knot series of artworks! Not directly approved by the ghost of T. S. Eliot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waist Knot - Fic

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Waist Knot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2313614) by Anonymous. 



> Written for Bad Bang II: Bang Backwards!

 

 

 **CHAPTER ONE** april or something.

 

It was the personified month of April. A guy was doing the Pledge of Allegiance when he thought, “you know what, April is pretty hott.” He rolled up to the personified month of April in his 1921 Pierce Arrow Motor Car which he borrowed from Tom “Bucky” Buchanan at the Eugenides Club. He stuck his elbow outside the window and lit April's cigarette in a single graceful gesture.

 

“I like a bell dame sans mercy,” he said.

 

They banged. It was kind of disappointing. He thought for a while about how what he really wanted to bang was someone from a Pre-Raphaelite painting, only made of flesh instead of paint, and without a lot of annoying neuroses or pubic hair. Possibly May would be better. Or even June. Once you got to July or so, things began to get sterile and shrivelly and then it is too depressing to bang. Then the personified month of April put on a record of “Is You Is or Is You Ain't My Baby.” When the song finished playing, she picked up the needle and put it back at the beginning. The song played sixteen times while she paid a small stack of bills and ate a stale pastry. He concluded that he was ain't, and stumbled blindly and emptily into the brown fog with his underwear on backwards.

 

 

 **CHAPTER TWO** the most annoying bird

 

You finally get your pawn to the other side of the board and all of a sudden it wants to be queen. There it is, sitting on the armchair like it owns the place, with an annoying bird perched over its head. “When are we going to the party?” says the annoying bird. Quoth the raven, “Nevermore.” “But I want to go out, Tom, we never go out any more,” says the annoying bird. Quoth the raven, “Maybe that's because you always have a headache.” “I wouldn't have a headache if you'd take me out once in a while,” said the annoying bird. The raven cocks its head and feigns understanding. When you finally do go out, the annoying bird tells everyone at the party that you tried to lock her in a tower like Eleanor of Aquitaine.

 

There are clocks everywhere because modernity is the literal worst. There's a fucking giant clock in the middle of London and it's like living in a dystopia every day. The annoying bird tries to convince you it's charming and “old world.” “I'm not a BLOODY American tourist,” you snap. You used to be technically an American by accident, but it's not fair for the annoying bird to bring it up all the time.

 

When you get back to the house, there is a strange man sitting in your armchair wearing leather boots and a hat. It's probably that brothel guy from the other poem. He likes to sit in other people's armchairs, sometimes with whores. He symbolizes things, like whores and the coarseness of ethnic groups and possibly evolution or something. It might not actually be the same guy though?

 

“Death certainly does undo a lot of people,” said the annoying bird glibly. Then she had an affair with the raven and it was terrible. You guys, it was the worst. It was even worse than the clocks and the fog and the river being super gross. There were feathers and bird droppings all over the burnished throne.

 

**Chapter THREE**

what the fuck those trees are burning

 

ok ok ok ok you guys though, do you realize there is a fire right behind you? SERIOUSLY YOU HAVE TO LEAVE NOW I know it's interesting or whatever listening to Emma Goldman talk to the monarchists about Bolshevism and its discontents or whatever this is but can we move along? No, I mean it, I'm leaving. You can stay if you want, but I am seriously going to walk away from the fire.

 

WHY IS NO ONE MOVING?? This guy isn't even hott! Not like April Personified was hott. I mean, she was super mean and kind of cold and her taste in music is terrible, but wev, I would hit it a second time. I wonder what month he is? Maybe February. He looks like a February. Kind of scraggledy and soft like February. Not bad, you know, just not hott enough to justify the mesmerized hand-clenching going on around here. Probably he doesn't see a lot of action, being all February-y and all. Who knows, he might appreciate some attention. Do you think if I just went up and stuck my hand right into his robe, he would be into it? I mean, if you people don't notice a FIRE RIGHT BEHIND YOU, are you really going to notice the exact second this stupid-ass lecture turns into a sexxxure?

 

SPEAKING OF WHICH

 

THERE IS A FIRE YOU GUYS

 

wev I am leaving this popsicle stand before it melts and there is popsicle gore all over the desert.

You're probably just waiting till I leave to start the orgy, but you know what I am ok with forgoing hott sexx with Personified February if it means not burning alive.

 

Shit, is that supposed to be symbolic?

 

Wev tho, I am out.

 

 **CHAPTER FOUR** a wikipedia page about water detoxification I guess??

 

Detoxifying your body with a ton of water is literally the best thing you can do for your health and fitness. Technically, if you drink too much water you can die, but the actual lesson here is: drink more water. There aren't any scientific guidelines, it's more like: if you're thirsty, drink some water, and then if you're not thirsty any more, drink some more just in case. It flushes the toxins from the body and replaces them with delicious water. All of the hottest months and all but one of the nicest months are composed primarily of water. April is an outlier because April is both hott and a total megabitch.

 

Our bodies are 99% water, which makes the human body a near-universal solvent. That's why coffins are so expensive.

 

Also, there was a guy once and he died; this part of the poem is confusing because I don't know who this guy is supposed to be. Maybe he had an affair with the annoying bird? How the hell does a bird that annoying convince so many people to sleep with her, anyway?

 

DRINK MORE WATTER IF U WANT TO BE HOTTER

 

This is the new official slogan of the English Peacetime Water Promotion and Morale Board.

 

 **CHAPTER FIVE** freestyle poetry corner!!!!

 

lighting crashes an old nazi dies

his innuendoes fall to the floor

I'm so tired of these lidless eyes!!

the confusion sets in

before the jailer

can even lock the door

 

This is a confusing picture but I guess there is some ommery and a shanti shanti and some crowns and I guess someone said something? wev, here is a poem I wrote about peace:

 

Shanti shanti shanti

The ghosts are getting haunty

Dry bones can be spry bones

But wetter bones are better

If you begin in passion

You will end up a regretter

You will sit and watch the tellies

With your closets full of skellies

And your souls will turn to jellies

In the pouches of your bellies

While the cats are growing scrawny

And the fascists growing brawny

Lay the cards, Madame Trelawney

For the fog is growing greasy

And your trouser-legs are creasey

And the ghosts are getting haunty

Shanti shanti shanti

 


End file.
